Siblings and Lovers

Can't believe I've already reached chapter 4. The story won't make much sense unless you have read the previous chapters. Keep voting and giving feedback. Your inputs are important to my thought process for the forthcoming chapters.

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"It's a small world."

Dana had spent the last week uttering every verse of the Bible she could think of. With her parents gone, religion seemed her only solace while Kyle remained unconscious in the ICU at New York Mercy.

The events had been a blur. Kyle passed out, and she struggled with the walkie for a few minutes before getting a response. The search party from the base came as fast as they could. There had been some basic cursory treatment at the army hospital. The doctor's assessed the situation to be grave and recommended he be transferred to New York Mercy for further treatment. A special air transport was scrambled for this purpose. It was fitted with facilities for an IV drip and an ECG monitor. Finally, they were back home.

Throughout this entire ordeal, Dana could not bear to leave his side. The hardest moments for her were when he was in surgery and she couldn't see him, and she suddenly felt all alone. The stark truth was that he was her last human connection. When she was not holding on to him, she felt like he was miles away.

Kyle remained borderline comatose. She couldn't concentrate on anything during that week. Sleep had become a distant memory, and her job just didn't matter anymore. She was deep in prayer when the doctor finally came to her in the waiting room.

"He is awake. You can see him now."

Dana was up and running before the sentence was finished. The corridors flew past as she scrambled her way to the ICU. She got there just as they were transferring him to the adjacent ward. His face was pale and his eyes looked tired. He mustered up enough strength to give her a weak smile. It was his first muscle movement for a week.

The nurses got him settled in the convalescing ward and left. Immediately, Dana rushed to his side and tightly grasped his hand. He just looked at her and gave another attempt at smiling.

"Thank god I still have partial nerve damage on this side. I can only imagine how hard you are clutching my hand."

She didn't laugh, just held on tighter. Her lips quivered as if wanting so say something. Kyle found some feeling and curled his fingers around hers.

"It's going to be okay. I am feeling much better now. How long was I out again?"

"Just over a week."

In that moment, the pretence of calmness fell through.

"Why did you do that? Why did you risk your life to protect me?" she asked, interlocking her fingers between his.

"I think you know the answer to that. What did the doctors say? Will I have to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair, being fed liquids by a nurse?"

"I haven't spoken to them, but they seem optimistic. I am so glad you're okay now. This last week has been hell."

They were interrupted as the doctor entered holding a chart.

"Mr. Walsh, we are happy to inform you that we have successfully removed all the fragments of shrapnel from your back and limbs. There are, however, some pieces which are embedded a little deeper. They are close to vital organs so the surgery would be risky. We have created a plasma channel around them. This makes them harmless, but you will have to carry around those bits of Afghanistan with you for the rest of your life."

"Fine, I can live with that. When can I go home?"

"We would like to keep you here for observation for a couple more days. If all goes well, we can begin taking off the sutures and bandages. But, I must warn you, the road to recovery is long and arduous. You will need lots of rest and intense physiotherapy to regain full use of your limbs."

"Thank you, doctor."

"So, who shall I put you in care of?"

"He's going to be in my care now," Dana said as she straightened up.

"In that case there is some paperwork you have to sign. Follow me please."

She caught one last look at her brother before leaving the room. He took the opportunity of being alone and tried moving his limbs, one by one. The feeling was somewhat like having a red hot knife inserted into his flesh each time he moved an inch. It took considerable strength just to lift his arm off the bed. He let it fall back, wondering if he was ever going to be the same.

While he was ruminating on these thoughts, Dana returned. Immediately she sensed that he was not feeling right.

"What's wrong?"

"It's..." said Kyle, trying to find a way to say it. Finally, he gave in and started sobbing.

"It hurts too much. I can't move, I can't do anything. Every single part of my arms and legs feels the same way."

"It will be alright," Dana replied, trying to console him. "The doctor said that with physiotherapy, you will be feeling much better in a couple of months. After we go home, they will send an expert to help you with your muscle movements every day."

"But I can't do anything. Just getting out of bed seems like a challenge to me."

"I'll be there with you every step of the way. Don't you forget that."

"Dana."

"Yes"

"I kind of like this pain. It reminds me that I saved you. I can see that part of you is feeling guilty about what happened, but I just want you to know, I don't regret it. Never will."

It was almost like they had one mind.

Two days later, Kyle was transferred back to their apartment. Dana had cleaned out the whole place and set the bedroom exactly the way the doctor had asked. Given that she had suffered some minor injuries while on company work in Afghanistan, she was given the month off to recover. She could spend the next month doing analytical work from her laptop, and she planned to use these two months to get her brother back on his feet.

It took all the strength Kyle had just to sit up in bed. The physiotherapist arrived on time. She seemed dour and professional. The first exercise was to extend his right arm out in front of him. He tried, but the pain seemed too much to lift it. The therapist sympathetically tried helping him, but his arm wouldn't move.

Dana knew exactly what to do. She stood a few feet in front of him and outstretched her arm in front of him, telling him to hold her hand. He tried as hard as he could and raised it a few inches. His face was clenched with effort. Fighting through the pain barrier, he finally raised his arm so it was level with his shoulder. Now he had to outstretch it.

Extending his arm felt like it was being stretched in a medieval torture rack. He gritted his teeth and gradually, inch by inch, his fingertips got closer to hers. A monumental amount of effort later, he finally bridged the gap and gently touched her hand. This was all the effort he had in him and his arm fell down by his side. He was on the road to recovery.

In the subsequent days, they settled down into the routine. Kyle would spend almost the entire day in bed, with traction weights attached to his arms and legs. Each time the therapist came, Dana would remove the weights and help him go a little further on the road to recovery. The nights were what he looked forward to the most.

It all started on the third night, when Kyle was trying to get some sleep. Various unpleasant thoughts were plaguing his mind. She could have done so much during those weeks if not for him, and he felt he was becoming a burden to her. Dana still slept by his side every night, and he looked over at her sleeping peacefully. He longed to run his fingers through her hair and softly caress her, but his hands were of no use right now. Even as he thought about it, he could feel an uneasiness in his crotch. He glanced down to see a neatly formed tent.

"Well, at least one part of my body is still working fine," he thought.

He once again turned his head to look at his beloved sister. She was awake and looked straight into his eyes. She extended her arm and began drawing long, lazy circles across his face with the back of her hand. He gently kissed her hand whenever it reached his lips. After a few minutes she turned him on his back and straddled him.

Pulling his shirt up to his neck, she began similar caresses on his torso. She drew symmetrical lines with both hands all the way from his neck down to the waistband of his boxers and then all the way back up. She stopped at his nipples and circled them. After keeping this up for some time, she leaned forward and locked her lips around his. He kissed back, gently at first, but it soon turned passionate. She left his mouth and planted a multitude of kisses all over his face. Moving her face a little lower, she left a trail of kisses from his neck to his chest. She stopped there to pay some more attention to his nipples. She clasped her mouth around one and gently flicked her tongue over it, while running her fingers in concentric circles around the other. She alternated her treatment with the other one.

Even with reduced sensation, Kyle was feeling aroused. Dana seemed to know exactly where his erogenous zones were and passed her mouth over them, darting her tongue out where needed. With extreme dexterity, she reached his belly button. Since, he was virtually hairless, she made her way down in one continuous lick. She nestled her head against his abdomen and just lay like that for some time. He could feel a small wetness where her face rested, tears of love for the one person who was everything to her.

They just lay still like that for what seemed ages. She wrapped her arms around his waist held on tightly. That was when she spotted his erection. She rolled off him with a smile and delicately pulled down his boxers, watching his member as it sprang upright. Gently, she grasped it in her hand and ran her thumb all the way along the length upwards to the head. She held the base in one hand and languidly caressed the entire length of the shaft with the other, stopping at the head. This motion continued for some time, before she gripped his shaft and gradually increased the tempo of the strokes.

It didn't take long for the first translucent bead of precum to appear. She stopped her motion and observed as it slid down the front of the shaft. She intercepted it with the tip of her index finger and gently traced its path back to the top. Her face was awfully close to the hard knob now as she delicately stuck out her tongue and made the slightest contact with the extremely sensitive head.

Kyle could not help letting out a low moan of ecstasy. Dana took the hint and grazed just the tip of her tongue down his shaft and back up again. She held his member in her hand and turned it to one side so she could concentrate on freely licking the other. After liberally coating one side with saliva, she repeated this on the other side. She took the entire length of his dick into her mouth in one go and gently moved back and forth, keeping it in contact with her tongue. It wasn't long before Kyle exploded in her mouth coating the insides with thick cum.

She drained the last drop and then just lay there, with her head against his crotch. He knew the moment was perfect to caress her neck and run his fingers through her hair, but he was unable to. As Dana drew herself level with his face for a final kiss, she saw a solitary teardrop making its way down his cheek. Immediately she blocked its path with her tongue and followed the wet trail back to his eye where she planted another kiss.

Almost every night, she would do something new to Kyle. Her dexterity was amazing. Her passion was intense. Her range was unbelievable. At every turn, she was ready with some new and intricate manoeuvre. To cap it all, she possessed the subtlest and most recondite style possible. At one moment, after some particularly boisterous cadenza, it seemed like the zenith of pleasure had been reached, then suddenly the whole tempo would begin to change and the melody would become so childlike and innocent that it would perfectly encapsulate the purity of Dana's desires. She played his body like a harp, plucking at imaginary strings all over, listening to the new reactions and new sounds which came out. Soon, she knew her 'instrument' well enough to play the most sensual melodies and listen to the sweet symphony of ecstasy that followed. During all these blissful nights, she treated Kyle's body like a sculpture made of crystal, afraid that it would break at the hint of force.

By the end of two weeks, Kyle could safely drink a cup of coffee without spilling it. By the end of the month he could walk up to the bathroom and back with some assistance. Soon he was able to move around the apartment on his own, limping and falling occasionally, but able to get up again. One day, Dana found him looking through the classifieds.

"Looking for a job?"

"Yeah. I might be fit enough to walk around but not nearly physically able enough to go back to the Army. I was thinking something more in line with my previous job as an interior decorator. I looked up my old crew. They've moved on and are now working for different design firms all across the state. Guess I should do the same."

"Well, I may be able to help there," said Dana, with a smile as she retrieved a folder from her cabinet. "I submitted your résumé to a few head-hunters and got one good interview lined up. CreativeSpaces, the top design firm here, headed by Stella Rousseau. She is quite the designer. Most of New York's fabulous social elite gatherings are her work. Add to that a mile-long queue of hotel chains asking for her expertise, as well as some private clients. From what I found out she is at the top of the interior design food chain here."

"Wow, you seem to have done some thorough research."

"That's not all I can tell you about her. She was publicly voted the toughest boss to work under in the city last month, a title she seems to take pride in. I have spoken to some of her past employees and they all vouch for her vindictive, sadistic outlook. She hires a new junior associate designer once a year and works him hard enough for him to quit within a month. None of her previous ten picks have lasted longer than that. I personally spoke to her last hire-and-fire, who says that in his short time there, he was ridden more often than the subway."

They laughed at this joke and began their respective breakfasts.

"She personally conducts the interviews and hires one among hundreds of applicants. Apparently she takes pleasure in demeaning and humiliating the rest."

"Are you trying to scare me? Because it's working. I hardly have a shot there."

"Au contraire, I say you have a great chance."

"Why?" said Kyle, narrowing his eyes. "Is there something about her I should know?"

"Why don't you look her up on the net?"

Puzzled, Kyle logged on Firefox and typed her name in the Search bar. Her website came right on top. He gasped at the stunning array of spaces she had designed. The website itself was a work of surreal art. He found her bio-data in the About Me section. His brow wrinkled on seeing her face. Stella was strikingly good looking. Her face seemed to be delicately chiselled from pure ivory. Her features were perfectly shaped and well formed. Her lips were thick and sumptuous while her eyes were a pale green. Her dense blonde hair was neatly tied in a ponytail.

"Have I seen her before? She looks familiar."

"Maybe," said Dana in a playful tone.

He scowled at the reply and went back to the website. His jaw dropped as he read her client list. All this and she was just 28.

"Alright, you want to play games with me? Fine. I'll go. When is the interview set up for?"

"Friday, 9 sharp, don't be late."

Friday came a lot sooner than he wanted as he prepared a compelling enough CV to present to her. Still nervous, he made his way to the company office. He was greeted by a waiting room full of equally nervous applicants. He was handed a token with 253 on it as he entered. The secretary took some pity on him and started chatting to keep him company.

"Don't worry, they don't take long. She chews them up and throws them out under a minute each. See how they look visibly shaken when they emerge. Some are even on the verge of tears. Trust me, this is the interview from hell. The last secretary was fired because she came to work a few minutes late. Ms. Rousseau has an impeccable work ethic and demands nothing less from her subordinates. The unlucky guy to get selected starts under an associate designer. Rarely do they get a chance to work up the ladder and work under her. Mostly, she finds some reason to fire them before that."

Kyle waited as the population of the room dwindled and more shell-shocked applicants left the room. Finally it was time for number 253.

Tentatively, he entered the room. The office was lavishly decorated. Behind a large mahogany desk, sat Stella, looking down at the resume of the last guy. Giving a disapproving look, she tossed it into the trash.

"Well, do you need an invitation?" she said, without even looking up.

Nervously, Kyle stepped forward and placed his CV at her desk and stood at rapt attention. She sighed disdainfully and looked up at him.

"So, what..."

Her question stopped abruptly as she gaped at him. Up close, Kyle was even surer he had seen her before, but couldn't place where. She stood up, her expression changing from derision to disbelief. Wordlessly, she opened the first page of the resume and read the name in a quivering voice.

"Kyle Walsh."

"Yes, that's me," said Kyle, trying to inject some humour.

They spent what seemed like aeons just staring at each other. Kyle's expression grew increasingly flummoxed while Stella seemed amazed. She picked up the solitary picture frame from her desk and looked at it and then back at Kyle, mentally comparing them. Her next step was inexplicable.

She walked around the desk until she was standing right in front of Kyle. Breathing heavily, she seemed to be deciding on what to do next. From this distance, she looked unbelievably gorgeous and came up to Kyle's face level. After a few moments of uncertainty, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Stunned at this turn of events, he made a weak attempt at reciprocating.

A minute or so later, she detached herself and stepped back. Her eyes were shimmering, like a teenage girl who had just met her idol.

"It's you. I can't believe it, it's really you."

Kyle scanned through his entire memory trying to remember who she was. No luck. He just stood there as she went on.

"I searched for you everywhere. I used every contact I have and pulled in every favour owed to find you but failed. You had gone to Afghanistan to fight. I had given up on ever seeing you and now you walk into my office. It has to be providence."

"Umm... I'm sorry, but I'm drawing a blank here. Could you please remind me of how we know each other?"

"You don't remember, do you? Yet I remember your face like it was yesterday. It was several months ago. I was running late for a high profile meeting, 6th had a messy traffic jam, I decided to take the subway, once there, I realized I had forgotten to take my epilepsy meds."

Suddenly, it all came back to Kyle at once, the day in the subway station, the unconscious woman. It had been such a rush that he had forgotten her face.

"When I came to, you were gone," she continued. "One of the onlookers had snapped a photo of you on his phone. It was pretty grainy, but it was enough for me. I got your name after some searching and tried to find you, but you were in Afghanistan by then."

Kyle tried to say something, but was cut short.

"Don't worry. You have the job and more. Leah!"

Her secretary almost tripped over herself running into the room. She stood there petrified.

"I have made my choice. Mr. Walsh here will be my hire. You can tell the ones still waiting to leave. Also prepare a memo for general distribution: Mr. Walsh will not be joining as a junior associate designer, but will be my assistant designer, only answerable to me."